fingers across keys play sounds of miracle

they bear wings like light

breath doesn't conceal truths

a fire of knowledge that burns bright

the world falls into darkness of idiocy

but you can only walk in the light

viviente en luz

Run very fast

panting, sighing, afraid

away from the door.

scream about it

it is terrifying

it's creeping up

along the doorknob

its hairy tendrils

quivering in airit is gigantic.

Dear World,

Welcome to the first blank page. What a challenge it is, how it taunts me with its emptiness, a subtle jab in my side, a whispering so soft, telling me to write, and write with out end.

The words flow from me like the water flows to the sound, gathering strength as it runs, picking up speed, turning over itself in a roaring cascade of depth and brilliance. They don't always come easy, as if there is a wall inside me somewhere that I must push against. somewhere in others, these walls stand strong, too strong to allow the river to flow. To them I say that walls do not last, they crumble with time or with one grand blow, tear them down and find the other side.

And here we come to the end of a short piece of writing that may never make a change in the world.

Oh, the arrogance of one who would calm himself a great man.

the hatred and fear that runs through our veins will not be enough

to quiet our conscience screaming out

"This is wrong."

Oh, the man who would rather build walls than bridges

who screams and yells in sentences made of snakes and snails

and his words pierce hearts like daggers

"This has to be wrong."

Oh, in holy parables he stitched together with desperate claws,

he took away peoples freedoms for fear

and we cheer him on

"As if this isn't wrong"

Oh, says a poet,

on the day this man sits upon a throne of greed in our capital,

so shall she take to the streets with words as her weapons, "I know this is wrong."

Oh, please,

please,let it be wrong.